Three
by Black-Neko-Chan
Summary: Three lifetimes stretched over three-thousand years, three meetings during which three words are always uttered. Three chances at redemption and something more.


As I've been writing ATF, I've been coming up with these one-liners that I eventually want to create oneshots out of. So this was created by stringing together two of those one-liners, and then my usual craziness. I had some fun playing around with pronouns in this, and the order they usually appear in a sentence. It was also nice writing a oneshot that didn't center around a Rebecca Black song lyric, haha.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh and make no money from the writing of this.

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During that first lifetime, the move from "I hate you" to "I guess not" is a surprisingly fast one. It doesn't take much. Just a meeting that goes a little bit too off-course and a death.

He's never really been able to say how he met you, because it seems like you've always been there from the beginning of everything. The world began and ended with the sharpest points of your smile. So he can't really fault you for anything, though he does wish you didn't always have to be such an asshole. It would have made things so much easier.

He's a tomb keeper and you're a tomb robber. It's simple enough math (though the math of back then isn't really the math of later) to deduce that the two of you should hate each other, though he doesn't think it's simply that. It's never been simple in anything. The world _is_ simple, but it's also not in a lot of ways that he's familiar with and he's sure you are too.

But the first words out of your mouth are "I hate you", and that's what sticks with him amongst brown skin and hair the texture of sand and the way your hands grip the hilt of a knife when it's going through another person's throat. _That_ sticks with him too, because he's never seen it before. And it's a reminder. He shouldn't get too close and he should expect the unexpected and he should _never_ let his guard down, because you really are a killer and the only reason he's alive now is because he's useful until he isn't or until their luck runs out, which it does, because really, what were the chances the two of them could _really_ sneak in and assassinate a Pharaoh? People in this time are stupid, but not _that_ stupid.

But maybe they are because when the knife that's been waiting for you chooses its moment to come down, he's in the way and saves you only because it's the wrong place to be at the wrong time, and he can't really understand why he's there at all with three words ringing in his head.

He's watching while you're moving and after that many more throats have been slit and souls extinguished, there's that smile of yours, dancing like the flames on stone walls. He's being carried by you (and he remembers that too, but he doesn't talk about it and he doesn't reminisce on it much because the three words the two of them are stuck on in this lifetime are not the three words of others) and he's pretty sure that in the lighting of the sky he's barely seen as they head toward his underground home that he is looking at the end. There's a spot of dark on the horizon and he remarks that with this it's all over. You don't seem to care all that much and your arms are strong and almost somehow comforting even though they snapped a neck only moments ago.

There was hatred before and when he remarks on it, it's impossible to think that it could have changed when everything just went wrong. But it's "I guess not" now, and really he's too tired to care much. (_Not_. It's an ugly word disguised as something positive. It's a negative, not as negative as earlier, but it isn't something to be happy about. It still means something _isn't_.)

He's pretty sure that in the moment the walls of your eyes had cracked enough to see a person. He won't remember what color they were back then, but he imagines gray like the walls he's grown up surrounded by.

He's in a tomb for the rest of his life, which isn't very long. He doesn't hear about any news from the outside, but he knows all the same when you're executed. He's tried as a traitor himself for helping you into the palace (which he did, but it's not like it was his intention, he just didn't want to die, which is pretty funny and ironic now, if he knew what irony was), and he's high enough of one to be killed by the Pharaoh himself.

In the second lifetime, it's back to "I hate you", and you look about the same, if he remembers correctly (which he doesn't—it's been a while). You are a thief again, though not a very good one this time around, or maybe it's just that your skills have gone rusty while you've been hiding away in that golden prison. A lot of things have gotten rusty. It's not a good time to live in, though he doesn't really know that until he takes a look back at it later. The walls of his tomb have gone from stone to dirt. This he remembers, though for the life of him he does not know why walls made of stone should remain. He thinks maybe he died looking at stone.

Breaking into tombs is something you do and he knows, but he's not really expecting to meet you again. He knows that he's alive but he does not know anything about golden rings and possession and won't for a long time. He's convinced it's an unhappy coincidence and he's more than surprised that he even remembers you at all.

This time he doesn't let you drag him into anything. It's sort of the opposite, because half the reason he thinks you're such a bad thief now is because you keep coming back to his tomb. (He's still never really figured out _why_ that was, though he's had plenty of time to ponder. You're kind of a mystery though.) Which is stupid, because once the tomb is empty, it's empty. He does remember (or at least he's pretty sure he does, and it seems like a way you'd act) that you like a challenge. And that's why this makes even _less_ sense, because he certainly didn't put up one. He saw you, recognized you, and moved over to let you do what you wanted. He's not too eager to get involved. He remembers enough to know that the last time it got him killed.

The "I guess not" is not stated out loud this time around, but it's because he knows what to expect (from muddled half-memories) and recognizes it when it happens. There's something about your eyes. They are a light golden color this time that strikes him as wrong because it is too cheerful a shade, but is right because it also makes him think of the snakes he had to be weary of in his underground tomb. He is almost certain these are not the same eyes as before (he is almost certain that this is not the same _body_ as before, but it's confusing because this is the same you but not the same him. It's similar enough not to matter, and to be remembered only in dreams he forget once he wakes up. And if he doesn't then he pretends like the only time he ever thinks of you is during your impromptu visits). It's all the same but not, and the three words are different this time around.

It's "I hate you" the first time, when bodies are pressed together and a knife is held to his throat (that has slit them before and been slicked down in the same substance that once left his body) and he is told to (take me to the Pharaoh's throne or I swear I'll do it) take you to all the gold hidden inside this god-forsaken tomb. It's something in-between, something negative still during the second meeting where curiosities run rampant, something that hadn't been spoken and so existed between them as they saw it and felt it. The "I guess not" was during the third, when hands and bodies pressed together again as he tried to figure out what the point of this all was and why you were still here. He remembers that you left that night with a black eye. That was a fight he won.

The second lifetime is a volatile time period where on the surface there is revolt and change, and underground seethes disquiet and the secret knowledge that things are _different_. They fight constantly because they are angry and then because they are not and things are confused and muddled. It's not the best way to begin anything but he's pretty sure he never had a choice in the end.

From "I guess not" to "Maybe you're okay" it's an uphill battle. There are many moments where he thinks that maybe you won't come back and then has to decide whether that's a good thing or not. It happens so many times he does not remember why or when and what he decides (although most of the time that's because he isn't satisfied with the answer he comes up with and chooses to forget).

From that time he remembers your smiles and how different they can be. There are the sharp-edged ones full of deceit and lies that always appear right before he receives your punch. These smiles remind him that you are deadly and not to be trusted. They make him think about frayed skin and the drop of dead weight. There are the smiles so full of hate that they are not even smiles but horizontal slashes. They tell him that he shouldn't get comfortable. That three words mean nothing, and a sense of security is always false.

It's the real smiles he likes more and more. There are two. The one you use most often, weary and tired but mostly amused, like your mouth has forgotten which shape to take and falls on one that seems appropriate. They show up in the dark, after a laugh. They are a constant during "Maybe you're okay". Then there is the smile he has seen only once. An embarrassed silence followed after it, like neither of them wanted to reveal quite so much. It is a smile that makes him think of three new words. He catches it in his hands and hides it away when you are gone, because he knows he will never see it again. Not in this lifetime.

The "Maybe you're okay" is when he leaves his tomb and finds you. He hasn't seen you. He worries when you don't visit. He knows that the thief you are in this life isn't a good one. This body seems clumsy somehow, not made correctly. He's not supposed to leave because he is a tomb keeper, and he is a protector and loyal to the Pharaoh though you are not. He's worried. He misses the sunrise he suddenly remembers now, and the feel of security and rightness. He remembers knowing when you'd gone and he doesn't want you gone. (The eyes aren't the same and the body is different but he is he and you are you and it makes about as much sense as anything else. This world is a ruin now.)

He remembers calling and you being there. He remembers security and tightness (almost the same but not) and he remembers _feeling_. He has lived before but he does not think he has _felt_. He cannot have. He wouldn't have been able to forget if he had. He does not even need to tell himself to remember because he will.

He _feels_. He feels _everything_. There is brown skin and hair the color of the silt at the bottom of the Nile. There are calluses on fingers and there is _rough_. There is _want_. There is _need_. They are not complex feelings (not yet) because he feels as if he has been born all over again and is just learning how to live. There is cold and the grainy texture of sand. There is cloth sliding against skin and then skin against skin. It's different. It's foreign. He wants again. He doesn't think he can forget what he has now. He cannot be satisfied with how it was before.

He remembers you. He remembers smiles and lips, and eyes and fingers, scars and limbs. He remembers words. Whispers. Promises. "I like you." A change. Things are different.

He doesn't remember why, but he goes back to his tomb. Full lips dance in his mind. The points of a smile. He is bitten by a snake and dies. Its eyes remind him of you and he wonders if you felt him pass. Parallel lines trying to connect.

In the third lifetime he's really gotten sick of being a fucking tomb keeper. He's sick of a lot of things. He's angry in this lifetime and nothing ever works. He hates the Pharaoh and he hates the bullshit destiny he's been given. He remembers and he knows that if he's going to find you, he needs to find the Pharaoh first, and that's fine with him.

For every step forward it's three back, and now they're not even parallel but divergent. It's not "I hate you" but "You're not him" and the feeling's mutual. He does not even recognize you this time. The body is not the same. It's not even close to the same. And he sees that you're angry too. How many years has it been? How many years since they ran side-by-side and just missed each other? Things are different now.

It's an unkind and an ugly world and everyone is looking for an end. There won't be more than this, he realizes. Things have gotten worse and everywhere he looks something is being built up and destroyed. People in this world know what they want but not how to get it, and after all the pain and when the blood's run dry, it'll just come to an end.

"A partnership, then" is next in line, but they both know it's just an excuse for "You're not him". A cover-up. He doesn't believe that they'll ever get past that part, but they'll work together because he has something he wants, and he knows the same goes for you. "A partnership, then."

There's sparks every time he looks at you. Flickers of feeling and memory that keep trying to mean something, but he won't let them. He knows how this all ends. He's died twice before, and those are the clearest memories he has. He's _changed_ now. He's _feeling_ again, but he's feeling so much _more_. (Everything is _more_ in this world.) He's _evolved_. He understands concepts, theories, the way bits and pieces fit together after they're given shape and form. His vision has been cleared of all that blocked it, and he knows his way now. He can _choose_. He knows you and he knows that's waiting. Your eyes are brown this time around, but the smile is always the same.

It stalls and no one is interested in going further. _Partnership_. It implies something mutual, an agreement reached by both parties. The only thing he's sure they agree on is that they want nothing to do with each other. Dreams and memories don't account for real life, and fragments can't be made whole. Three words are only ever three words without something genuine behind them. (There is nothing genuine here. This world is a fake.) A partnership requires trust and cooperation. Neither of them has it nor remembers.

It's the feel of sand under his fingers. It trickles on down like his memories and all of his lifetimes. Something about it reminds him of hair, though he can't really reach it before it sifts through cracked hands and disappears. Something about it makes him think of you. Not you, but _you_. The one he remembers. The one with the strong arms and that one genuine smile.

"You're not him." It's stated, but after all of it, it doesn't take much to change it. They don't want to but they do. He thinks of sand. He thinks of something familiar. He still doesn't know what you think about because he can't grasp you. But it's malleable and changing again. "Maybe it's okay." Because maybe they can work. Maybe they don't have to be the same. Maybe they just have to achieve their goal and then it will all end and there won't be any memories so it won't matter.

If there's something he's learned throughout all his lifetimes, it's that nothing is easy. Even during his first lifetime when things were simple, it wasn't easy. Life was not easy. This world thrives with confusion and paradoxical mind games. "I don't understand." He thinks they're too separate. It's been too long. They can't come together now. But just when he thinks it, the world is changing again and there are new rules to play by. He catches a glimpse of something he thinks he can understand under the moonlight. Your skin is pale in this body. It makes him think about the few times he would sneak out of his tomb and gaze at the diamonds the sand became when the moon was in the sky. It's from this lifetime, so he remembers. He also remembers nights when you would visit and the day he left to search for you (though those ones he really does try to forget).

When hands touch hands, there is something familiar, though he doesn't want there to be. (He can remember which muscles tense and move when the blade of a knife runs over exposed flesh.) The press of bodies ignites fire, and lips make him think of "I like you". But when all is said and done it's not "I like you" that comes from lips he thinks maybe _are_ familiar, but "Shut up, now". They're still too far apart. They're still drowning in the sea that stretched between years. It's still different, too different, and it's hard to really try when all he sees is a dead end.

(Stone walls. Gray. The banks of the Nile. Brown. And now all of this.)

He doesn't think you talk as much in this lifetime. It's almost nice. You aren't as much of an asshole. Under the soft light of a candle, its flicker dances across your pale chest and almost makes him think of warmth and suffocation. He likes the way you sit so quietly. He likes the way you frown into the distance. You think more now. You are pensive. All the years have changed you. He likes that when he calls your name (it's always the same, no matter the body, and sometimes it's the only way he knows it's you at all), you look at him and your lips move into the points of a smile he can recognize. He likes it when it happens more often. And then he realizes that he has to leave.

Too close, and it's almost scary this time. It's the final, the end. They're edging back into "I like you" territory and he knows that if such a thing happens, he won't be satisfied until he has more. Everyone wants more in this world. No one is happy with what they have. He won't be, either. He wants all of you. He wants to hold you in his hands and reduce you to nothing but rubble and silt and then build you up strong. He wants to devour you. He wants to be so close to you he _is_ you, and then he never wants to let go. He already knows how the story ends. He's lived it twice before and it's never enough. This is the big finale. The curtains are closing. He's never felt more alive. He's getting selfish. He runs away and doesn't know whether it's right or wrong. This is always so confusing.

It's lonely when he's gone and you're not there. It's what he wanted but he doesn't want it. All he's doing is pushing away the ending. He can't remember what life was ever like without you. The time he's spent with you has never been long in comparison to the years he's grown and lived underground, but it's the only time he's ever felt free. All his limited memories carry you. His position now is under the sun and against the sky. It argues against the cold of his tomb, but he feels it leeching away his color and his life. He has run into further entrapment and cannot go back.

So you come to him. He doesn't know how you arrive or when. The days have all lost their color and run together and he sleeps. When he wakes he sees your chocolate brown. They're deeper this time, and he's already fallen into them before he can think to stop it. Somewhere along the way (he can never remember) the things he's been thinking were lost and confused and now all that remains and all he can think is the truth he's been trying so hard to hide. There's never been a choice because even running away leads him right back to you.

When he hears you say it, it isn't "I love you" but "I need you". Somehow the distinction between those three words makes it all the more personal. After all this time it's _you_, and the body and the eyes and the shape and the skill and the strength of the arms don't matter because it's _you_. This isn't some nobody professing his feelings but you, opening and allowing him to see a weakness, a vulnerability, a crack in the wall. Something he's never seen before. Something that's different. He hopes that something will be different.

"I need you" dances in his thoughts and "I need you" follows him in his dreams. Three words descend on him with each dropping kiss from your lips and the half-shade of your eye that reflects the dancing candlelight. He is warm and covered. He thinks that he will never leave. He does not want to become a separate entity after all this time. He has lived separately and now he wants to cling and hold and come undone in tightly grasping arms. He is alive and he feels and he _is_, and he does not want to be the way before. The opposite.

The end is coming. The curtain is closing. It's whispered to him everywhere he goes. They envelope daggers and take the plunge. When he dies this time, it's not with the knowledge that you have gone first, or knowing that you will be able to feel that the poison has overtaken him cold and alone. It's clasped in hands that are callused, arms that are strong, lips that taste familiar, eyes that hold the depths of the world, feeling the slow beating of a heart that has lived too long and knows that everything has to come to an end, eventually.

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I actually love this ending. This is an ending I am proud of, and it just came so naturally when I was writing it too. I'm actually in love with this whole oneshot, really. Please remember to leave a review and tell me what you think of it! Thanks!


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